|A Song of Despair
The memory of you emerges from the night around me.
The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea.
Deserted like the dwarves at dawn.
Cold flower heads are raining over my heart.
In you the wars and the flights accumulated.
You swallowed everything, like distance.
It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss.
Pilot’s dread, fury of blind driver,
In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded.
You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire,
I made the wall of shadow draw back,
Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost,
Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness.
There was the black solitude of the islands,
There was thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit.
Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me
How terrible and brief my desire was to you!
Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs,
Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs,
Oh the mad coupling of hope and force
And the tenderness, light as water and as flour.
This was my destiny and in it was my voyage of my longing,
Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you,
From billow to billow you still called and sang.
You still flowered in songs, you still brike the currents.
Pale blind diver, luckless slinger,
It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour
The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore.
Deserted like the wharves at dawn.
Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything.
It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one!